


Best Laid Plans

by gutsandglitter



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, I'm calling them "Pippity", also I'd like to introduce you all to Dimity/Pippa, the Hackle slow-burn rom com that no one needed or asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-27 16:50:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13885023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gutsandglitter/pseuds/gutsandglitter
Summary: Hecate bit back a frustrated groan. This was spiraling out of control; what had started as a wish to make a friend happy was now devolving into a ridiculous series of cartoonish antics. Her blood ran cold as a sudden realization hit her: this must be what Mildred Hubble feels like on a daily basis.Wherein Hecate realizes that asking the unrequited love of your life to help you play matchmaker is a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea.





	1. it seems to me some fine friends have watched you turn your back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cassiopeiasara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiopeiasara/gifts).



> So, so many thanks to cassiopeiasara for all the helpful headcanoning sessions, keysmash exchanges, and pep talks that led to the creation of this fic, as well as to my fabulous beta wonderwanda for all her advice (and for getting me to try chilling a little when it comes to adverbs).

_“I like being the odd one out.”_

Hecate and Pippa watched as Mildred scampered off down the hall, stumbling slightly on her loose bootlaces.

Pippa smiled as the girl disappeared around the corner. “She’s really quite something, isn’t she?” 

Hecate nodded. She certainly was...something. 

After a few moments, Pippa turned back to Hecate and clapped her hands together. “Well, I’d best be off. I told my students we could stop for ice cream on the way back if they didn’t win.”

Though Hecate found the idea of rewarding students for failure to be utterly baffling, she managed to keep a placid smile on her face. “Of course. I won’t keep you.”

“Actually, you wouldn’t by any chance have some handle wax handy, would you? I’m breaking in a new broom again and it’s been giving me nightmarish callouses.”

Hecate smirked. She remembered the day Pippa’s eldest sister had inherited the family broom — she had stormed into Hecate’s room with a petulant pout and declared that she had never wanted the musty old thing in the first place, that when she was older she would buy a trendy new broom of her own every year. Hecate was happy to see that her friend had accomplished at least a few of her childhood dreams in the years since they’d seen each other last.

She shook her head. “I’m afraid I’m out at the moment. But our flying teacher, Miss Drill, will have some.”

They opted to walk down to Miss Drill’s office rather than transfer, taking the time to catch each other up on the past thirty years. Hecate was pleased (though not surprised) to learn that Pippa had accomplished nearly everything else she had said she would when they were children -- fly across Europe, spend a year living in Paris, get a regular column in _Which Witch Weekly_ , start her own school, create an anti-acne potion recipe that was simple and safe enough for First Years to use. In fact, Hecate was shocked to learn that the only goal she hadn’t achieved was marriage.

Pippa shrugged. “Never found the right person, I guess. I take it you didn’t either?”

Hecate shook her head. “No, I didn’t.”

It was a bit of a lie, but it was easier than saying _I did find the right person, but she happens to be my employer and there’s no chance she would ever return my feelings._ “Never found the right person,” had a better, less pathetic ring to it. 

They found Dimity in her office, where she was perched on the edge of her desk flipping through a copy of _Broom and Rider_ magazine. She glanced up and grinned when she saw Hecate.

“What’s up, HB?”

Hecate rolled her eyes at the nickname, but chose not to address it. “Miss Drill, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Pentangle.”

Pippa stepped forward and raised a well-manicured hand to her forehead. “Well met, Miss Drill. And call me Pippa, please.”

Dimity grinned and mirrored her salute. “Alright, but only if you call me Dimity.”

While Hecate wasn’t exactly an expert in flirtation, the twinkle in Dimity’s eye and the flush on Pippa’s cheeks were unmistakable. 

_Well that’s...interesting._

Hecate considered this new piece of information as Pippa held out her calloused hands and explained her problem. After a bit of digging through the supply closet, Dimity pulled out a small trunk filled with handle wax and began explaining the benefits and drawbacks of each brand. Pippa listened intently, asking a few questions before selecting a jar of something rose-scented and highly-recommended for her broom model. 

Dimity grinned and held out the jar. “Go ahead and take the whole thing, I get vendors sending me samples all the time.”

“You’re much too kind, Dimity.”

“Nah, I’m really not. HB here can attest to that,” Dimity replied, giving Pippa a cheeky wink.

Pippa’s cheeks flushed to match her dress. Hecate rolled her eyes.

But as revolted as she was, the image of them grinning at each other like idiots remained with her for the rest of the day.

Pippa had looked...happy. Really, truly happy. She’d still been grinning when she and her students took to the sky later that afternoon. It was good, no doubt about it. She deserved to be happy, especially after everything Hecate had put her through.

Now that she thought about it, Hecate almost owed it to Pippa to see that she got some of the happiness she deserved. It might go a long way towards making amends for her hurtful actions, and towards repairing their friendship. 

She mulled it over throughout the rest of the evening, and was still thinking about it when she went up to Ada’s study for their nightly cup of tea.

As Ada poured, she examined Hecate from over the tops of her spectacles. “Something on your mind, my dear?”

Hecate pursed her lips, considering the pros and cons of sharing her idea with Ada. While the idea of speaking to the object of her own (unrequited) affection about matters of the heart made her want to hyperventilate, she had to admit that she herself was hopelessly out of her depth on this one. Ada had more experience in this arena, and she was good with people in general. She would know what to do.

“Do you...is it considered impolite to encourage someone you know, someone you work with, to pursue a romantic relationship with someone else?”

Ada frowned, setting down the teapot. She considered Hecate for a moment before responding. “I suppose that depends,” she said slowly, “on who the two people in question are.”

Hecate wrung her hands in her lap, wishing desperately that the floor would open up and swallow her whole. This was a bad idea, quite possibly the worst one she had ever had. “It’s ah, it’s Miss Drill. She seemed quite taken with Miss Pentangle this afternoon, and I was under the impression that the feeling might be mutual.”

“I had rather thought you and Miss Pentangle might seek to pick back up where you left off, so to speak.”

Hecate blanched. “No, no. I believe we are on our way toward repairing our friendship, but nothing more. I…” _only have eyes for you_ “no longer hold romantic feelings for her.”

Ada’s expression softened. “I see.” She shifted, folding her hands over her stomach. “Then no, in general I don’t think it’s impolite to offer to set a colleague up with someone. However, considering the fact that your working relationship with Miss Drill tends to be a tad, shall we say _adversarial_ at times, I’m not entirely sure how amenable she would be towards such a suggestion were it to come from you.”

Hecate looked down at her lap sheepishly. “I hadn’t thought of that.” 

While she wouldn’t deny the fact that Miss Drill was second to none when it came to broomstick maintenance (she herself would never even consider taking her own broom to someone else when it needed service), Hecate had never hidden her disdain for the other witch’s lax disciplinary policies, and she had always been very outspoken against the superfluous weekend trips she organized for the students. (Honestly, the idea that camping would be an enriching activity for the girls was laughable at best, and downright disturbing at worst.) She could see how Dimity might be wary of the idea of Hecate giving her dating advice; if anything, she’d probably think it was some sort of cruel trick.

“Never mind, it was a silly idea,” Hecate muttered, rubbing the pad of her index finger against her thumb. 

“Nonsense,” Ada said. “I think it is very kind of you to want to do something like that for Miss Pentangle. And I didn’t say it was a silly idea, I merely said that if you were to make such a suggestion it might not be well-received.”

Hecate furrowed her brow. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“If Miss Drill were to come to the conclusion on her own, or at least seemingly on her own, she may very well carry through with it,” Ada replied. “If they were as taken with each other as you say, perhaps a second _chance_ encounter might be all it takes.”

A slow smile spread across Hecate’s face. “It seems that your sister isn’t the only one with a devious streak,” she said dryly.

Ada laughed. “I’m not sure I would go so far as to call myself devious. Just a hopeless romantic, I suppose.”

Hearing that made Hecate’s heart ache. Was that something Ada wished for -- a chance encounter with a stranger, some kind of love at first or second sight? She’d been married for a brief period of time in her younger years, but from what Hecate had gleaned it didn’t sound as if there had been much romance in the relationship. 

Hecate found this baffling. How could anyone be granted the divine privilege of being able to call Ada Cackle their wife and then not be willing to move heaven and earth and everything in between to make her happy, to make her feel loved and cherished? It seemed nothing short of a crime. 

Hecate looked back down at her hands and cleared her throat, effectively stopping her thoughts before they entered a familiar yet highly unprofessional territory. 

“So how do you suggest I go about creating this chance encounter?”


	2. it seems you only want the things that you can't have

Hecate glanced out the window again and frowned. Every Saturday afternoon, rain or shine, Dimity would go out for a fly, spending a few hours racing over the grounds perfecting her barrel rolls and reliving her glory days as the Star of the Sky. But so far there was no sign of her, and it was starting to get late.

“More tea?” she asked, reaching for the now-cold pot.

“Er, no thank you. Four cups is enough, I think,” Pippa said.

Hecate nodded and rested her hands on the table. She wracked her brain trying to think of a new topic of conversation. They had effectively caught each other up on everything -- their families, their careers, their hobbies and interests. Hecate wasn’t sure what was left to ask about. 

After a period of awkward silence, Pippa reached across the table and gave one of Hecate’s hands an affectionate squeeze. “I’m so very glad you invited me over, Hiccup. It’s been wonderful catching up with you, and I’m so glad to see that you’ve found a home here and are doing well.”

Hecate nodded. “I’m glad to see you’re doing well too, Pipsqueak. It’s been-” out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a familiar flash of green robes streak past the window. “Let’s go for a walk around the grounds,” she said, standing abruptly.

Pippa furrowed her brow and looked out the window. “A walk? But it looks as if it’s about to rain.”

Hecate waved a hand dismissively. “Nonsense, it’s just overcast. No need to worry.”

Pippa gave her a quizzical look but stayed silent, acquiescing to the strange suggestion.

Two minutes after they stepped out of the castle, it began to rain.

“Hecate-”

“Just a quick cloudburst, I’m sure it will be over any second,” Hecate said, conjuring an umbrella. She peeked out from under it, desperately scanning the sky for Dimity. The woman had a tendency to turn up like a bad penny at the most inconvenient of moments, but of course the one time Hecate actually needed her she was nowhere to be found.

“But-”

Hecate steered her over to the edge of the pond. “Did I ever tell you about how Mildred Hubble made her grand entrance on Selection Day?” she asked, raising her voice so that she could be heard over the din of the worsening rain. 

“No, you didn’t,” Pippa said, frowning as her shoes squelched in the mud. She rested a hand on Hecate’s shoulder and stood on one leg, reaching down to adjust the pink stiletto.

There was a deafening thunderclap, followed by a brilliant flash of lightning. Hecate started, and her own shoes slid on the muddy lip of the pondbank. She lost her footing and tumbled headlong into the pond, dropping the umbrella and taking a shrieking Pippa down with her. 

Hecate gasped as chill of the water hit her, soaking the brocade of her dress and causing the material to cling to her skin. Her plait fell out of its tight knot and tumbled down her back, instantly growing heavy with rain water. Beside her, Pippa spluttered and coughed as she tried to sit up in the waist-high water. Hecate glanced over and saw streaks of mud crisscrossing the front of her dress, and an errant bit of pondweed sticking out from behind her ear. She looked pitiful, like an old stuffed animal going through the wash.

_That’s it_ , Hecate thought glumly. _Now I’ve gone and ruined our friendship for good. Who was I kidding,I-_

But her train of self-deprecating thoughts ceased when Pippa let out a peal of laughter. Hecate’s eyebrows shot towards her hairline as Pippa clutched at her sides, tears of mirth rolling down her cheeks and mixing with the rainwater. She failed to see what was so funny about the situation. Perhaps Pippa had hit her head and was experiencing some sort of neurological event?

Pippa wiped at her eyes with a sopping wet sleeve, still snickering. “I take it this is what happened to Mildred on Selection Day?” she asked, flicking water at Hecate. 

Hecate pursed her lips. “More or less.” 

She moved to stand, wobbling as she tried to find her footing in the mud. She took one last look at the sky, which was still devoid of Dimity, before turning and helping Pippa to her feet.

*****

“Here,” Ada said, placing a soft woolen afghan around Hecate’s shoulders. “You must be freezing.”

Hecate thanked her quietly, pulling it tighter around herself. She normally would refuse such an offer (especially considering how pink the blanket was), but she really was freezing. Warming and drying spells could only go so far, and they did nothing for the deep chill in her bones. She also accepted a cup of tea, wrapping both hands around the porcelain and trying to absorb its warmth. 

“I don’t think I’m very good at this matchmaking business,” she muttered. 

Ada chuckled. “Well it wasn’t the most auspicious of starts, but that doesn’t mean you should write off the endeavor entirely.”

Hecate started to protest, then stopped and sneezed violently. “How do you figure that?” she asked, pulling her handkerchief from her sleeve and blowing her nose.

“It was one mishap,” Ada said, looking at her from over the tops of her spectacles. “You’ve never been one to give up so easily. How many tries did it take you to perfect that cure for mad cat disease?”

“Seven hundred and ninety three,” Hecate said flatly. “But that was potions brewing, which I hope you’ve noticed is something I am very good at. As opposed to all of this nonsense.”

Ada sighed and shook her head. “You just require a bit of assistance. I won’t pretend to be much of an expert, but I’m sure if we put our heads together we can think of something.”

“We? Ada, you really don’t have to-”

Ada waved her hand dismissively. “Nonsense, I want to. It will be fun.”

Hecate bit back a frustrated groan. This was spiraling out of control; what had started as a wish to make a friend happy was now devolving into a ridiculous series of cartoonish antics. Her blood ran cold as a sudden realization hit her: _this must be what Mildred Hubble feels like on a daily basis._

She swallowed, shook her head, and tried to dislodge that horrifying thought. “Couldn’t we just use a love potion?” 

Ada tutted. “Ignoring the fact that the Witches’ Code highlights the illegality of love potions in no less than three different sections, what would be the point of that?”

“To save us some time and effort? 

“Time and effort? Really, Hecate,” she chided. Her tone was stern and laced with disapproval, and Hecate was feeling more and more like Mildred by the second. “Have you no sense of romance whatsoever?”

Hecate looked away, knowing there was no way she could safely answer that question.

Ada sighed. “I can’t speak for Dimity, but I’d rather be willing to bet that Miss Pentangle is the type that wants to be wooed. Roses, candlelight, the whole nine yards.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Because I was like that once.”

“You aren’t anymore?” Hecate knew she was skating on the thinnest of ice, but her curiosity was getting the best of her.

Ada shook her head, gazing into the fire. “No, I’m afraid those days are most likely behind me,” she said, tone bordering on wistful. 

Hecate bit the inside of her cheek and tried to maintain her calm, cool facade, though it stood in direct opposition to the searing anguish that Ada’s words caused her.

Most days, she could manage it. She could go weeks, sometimes a month or more without letting herself truly pine for Ada. But on occasion something would happen -- Ada would laugh a certain way or the light would hit her just so, and a dizzying sense of longing would rip through Hecate’s heart.

She hated it, hated herself for feeling that way. Ada had already given her so much — she had staked her own reputation on Hecate when no one else would, she had given her a career and a home. More importantly, she had given Hecate her friendship. Why couldn’t it be enough? Why couldn’t Hecate just appreciate how spectacularly lucky she was already? She didn’t deserve Ada’s friendship, let alone her love. She had no right to want more, and yet she did. She wanted Ada’s mornings, her nights. She wanted to be able to hold Ada close and tell her over and over how wonderful and deserving of love she was, and how whomever it was that had convinced her otherwise deserved to be locked away for the rest of their cold, miserable life. 

Hecate closed her eyes and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. She wished she could muster even something as trite as _I’m sure you’ll find someone_ , but the very thought of it made her feel ill. 

“If love potions are out, then how do you suggest we go about having them woo each other without their knowledge?” she asked, trying to steer the conversation back to safer territory.

Ada turned her gaze back to Hecate. Her eyes seemed to take a moment to focus, as if she had been lost in a daydream or memory. “We’ll invite Miss Pentangle to the staff Yule party, of course. Give them a little music, a little mistletoe, a little of Maria’s famous honey wine and,” she waved her hand absently, “see what happens, I suppose.”

Hecate pursed her lips. It wasn’t a bad idea actually, colleagues from other schools often came to take part in Cackle’s Academy’s near- legendary Yule celebrations. If either Dimity or Pippa were to become suspicious, it left a comfortable amount of plausible deniability for Ada and Hecate. 

After a few moments of consideration, she nodded slowly. It was a safe enough suggestion, one which seemed to have a high likelihood of success, and it appeared to make Ada happy. That ticked all of the right boxes, as far as Hecate was concerned.

It would be fine. She could do this.


	3. I know who I want to take me home

_I can’t do this_ , Hecate thought. She dug her fingernails into the flesh of her palm and took a deep breath, trying to ward off the feeling of pressure that was beginning to build in the center of her chest. _I can’t do this_. 

While Ada’s plan had been straightforward enough (Hecate would intercept Pippa, Ada would pretend to not know that the witches were already acquainted and would bring Dimity over to “introduce her” to Pippa), it hadn’t taken into consideration one thing: Hecate’s own hatred of parties. 

Not that Ada would know this, of course. She asked Hecate to come to the Yule party every year, and Hecate would always acquiesce (she would have followed Ada into the very depths of hell, if she had asked). She would make an appearance, force herself to talk to at least one person who was not Ada, and find an excuse to leave after an hour. She would then go upstairs and lie awake for the rest of the night, feeling as if she was about to vibrate out of her skin. 

Hecate didn’t like large crowds of adults. Children she could handle, because she could command their attention and have at least some semblance of control over the situation. She was a teacher, she knew what to do and say around children. But adults were a different story. Adults were loud and unpredictable, and they cared if you did or said the wrong thing. When surrounded by her peers from other schools she always felt as if she was attracting attention for all the wrong reasons. A single sidelong glance or offhand comment from a colleague could instantly transport her back to her youth, when she was just a gangly ugly duckling of a girl trailing after Pippa and tripping over her own bootlaces. 

This year with the added pressure of having to play matchmaker, and the fact that Ada kept going on and on about how romantic the Yule season was, it just felt like too much. 

Hecate closed her eyes and exhaled slowly through her nose. Breathing. Breathing was good. Breathing was something she needed to remember to do. 

A familiar hand settled on her shoulder, causing her to jump.

“I’m so sorry, my dear,” Ada said, retracting her hand. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, quite.” Hecate’s heartbeat was still thundering in her ears. 

Ada looked skeptical but she didn’t push the issue. “Has Miss Pentangle arrived yet?”

Hecate shook her head. “She mirrored earlier to say she would be running a bit late.”

Ada hummed and moved to the refreshments table to pour herself a goblet of Maria’s honey wine. The beverage had become somewhat notorious over the years for its potency, and just about everyone at Cackle’s could attribute at least one poor life decision to it. (Thought as far as Hecate knew, Gullet’s had been the worst. Three years prior she had let Dimity give her a magical tattoo of a bat, and the wonky, one-eyed result had a tendency to maneuver its way to the center of her forehead at the most inopportune times.)

Ada took a sip and blanched. “Oof, this batch is definitely stronger than last year’s.”

“You say that every year.”

“Well, it’s true every year,” Ada said, grinning. 

Hecate smirked, feeling some of her tension begin to ease. Maybe this night wouldn’t be so bad after all. Perhaps she had just been overreacting – it was just a social gathering after all. No one had ever died just from attending a social gathering.

“Did you see I hid a few sprigs of mistletoe around the room?” Ada asked, eyes sparkling with mischief. She pointed towards the fireplace, where a sprig of green leaves and white berries hung from the rafters on a length of red ribbon. “A little obvious perhaps, but I couldn’t resist.”

An image sprung to the front of Hecate’s mind, completely unbidden: her standing under the mistletoe with Ada in her arms, cradling her face and kissing her with over a decade’s worth of pent-up passion.

Her palms began to sweat. Yes, this night would be just as bad as she had predicted. Worse, probably.

Ada excused herself to go speak with an acquaintance, giving Hecate’s arm a gentle squeeze before she left. 

As soon as she was gone, Hecate poured herself a goblet of wine and downed half of it in one go. Normally she didn’t drink, save for the odd end of year toast with Ada, but it was the only thing she could think to do in order to calm the waves of panic that threatened to overtake her. 

The wine was sweet on her tongue, but burned her throat as it went down. She closed her eyes and downed the rest of it, coughing slightly as she finished. She drank a second cup much in the same way, then filled her goblet once more before turning to survey the room. 

Ada and Davina has gone all out on the decorations, enchanting hundreds of candles to float high above the hall and draping boughs of holly and pine across just about every available surface. Sure enough, she could see another two bunches of mistletoe -- one by the tree in the corner, and another over the main doorway. 

She quaffed the rest of her drink and moved to refill it once more.

*****

_I can do this_ , Hecate thought, her chest filling with an unfamiliar feeling of confidence. She felt comfortable, relaxed even, for what felt like the first time in decades. She had no problem approaching a group of colleagues and engaging them in conversation on the latest pedagogical theories, nor did she feel any discomfort laughing at one of Archibald Moss’ raunchier jokes.

_See, this isn’t so bad. You were just overacting, as usual._

She kept one eye trained on the door, waiting for Pippa’s arrival. Suddenly she was excited by this matchmaker business, and she looked forward to being able to put Ada’s plan into action.

This newfound confidence she’d found at the bottom of her goblet was short-lived, however. 

Less than an hour later she felt her stomach twist violently, and a small measure of bile began to creep up the back of her throat. She excused herself from the conversation she had been semi-engaged in and turned on heel, pressing the back of her hand to her lips as she hurried from the room. She threw open the doors to the courtyard and staggered down the steps towards the closest shrubbery. 

The honey wine burned even more coming back up. Her eyes watered as she retched, and she felt as if her entire body was trying to turn itself inside-out. 

_Stupid, stupid, stupid_ , she chided herself. A grown woman, completely incapable of handling her drink. It was shameful at best, although she was relieved that no one was around to see her.

As if on cue, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Closing her eyes, she winged a quick prayer to any available deity to make it anyone but Ada. 

“Oi, Hecate,” called Dimity.

Hecate groaned. Not as bad as Ada, but probably a close second. 

“Bats, Hecate,” Dimity said, voice filled with equal parts awe and concern. “You’re a hot mess.”

“You should, you should go back inside,” Hecate panted, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Gotta be honest, I don’t think I feel comfortable leaving you alone right now.”

Hecate shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I don’t like parties anyway,” she said slowly. Her tongue felt like it was too big for her mouth. Had it swollen somehow? Was that something that happened to people when they were drunk? She couldn’t remember. “You like parties. Pippa likes parties. Ada likes-” She paused, closing her eyes as another overwhelming wave of nausea crashed over her. She turned away and resumed retching into the bushes.

“Hey, hey,” Dimity cooed. After a moment she reached out and began rubbing Hecate’s back in a soothing circular pattern. “That’s it, get it all out of your system. At the very least, this’ll probably make tomorrow’s hangover a little easier.”

Hecate cringed. She’d only been hungover once before, but she remembered it had been rather unpleasant. Though the idea that she could possibly feel worse than she did just then was unfathomable.

“At least I don’t have to worry about holding your hair back,” Dimity added. “Seriously, what spell do you use to get it to stay like that? Some sort of builders’ charm? Whatever it is, it’s impressive.”

Hecate took a few shaky breaths before leaning over and collapsing onto the nearest bench. She was certain that she had now emptied her stomach of everything she had ever eaten in her entire life, and then some. She swallowed and grimaced, noting the sharp, bitter aftertaste which clung to her still-too-large tongue.

What she needed was a glass of water.

She sat up and looked down at her hands, trying to focus her swimming thoughts enough for a conjuring spell. Ordinarily she could do a simple conjure in her sleep, but right now it felt as if there was a barrier between her and her magic. Her brow furrowed with concentration. Water. Water. _waterrr_. 

Even her thoughts seemed slurred.

There was a small puff of smoke, and a moment later Hecate found herself holding a damp, furry creature. She blinked. The creature blinked back.

“Is that...Hecate, is that an otter?” Dimity asked, incredulous.

“I…” Hecate looked up at her. “I wanted a glass of water.”

Dimity sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, we need to get you to bed. You’re far too powerful of a witch to be drunk magicking.” She plucked the otter from Hecate’s grasp and settled him on her hip the way one would a small child, as if handling aquatic mammals was something she did on a regular basis. The otter, for his part, seemed quite blasé about the whole situation. He leaned his head back against Dimity’s shoulder, staring intently at Hecate.

Hecate stared back at him. “Aqua Net,” she said suddenly.

Dimity frowned. “What?”

“You asked what I use to keep my hair in place. Aqua Net.”

“Like...like the hairspray?”

Hecate nodded.

Without another word, Dimity handed the otter back to Hecate before doubling over in laughter.


	4. things look almost twice as well when they're slightly blurry

Pain. 

That was all she could register. 

Dull, throbbing pain radiating from her frontal lobe and reaching all the way down to her toes (which, for some reason, seemed to still be encased in her lace-up boots).

Hecate cracked one eye open and recoiled at the bright, late morning sun that was streaming through a crack in the curtains. She rolled over, trying to escape the light, and cried out as her headache doubled in intensity. She had to be dying. There was no other explanation for it. 

Safely turned away from the wretched sun, she tried opening her eyes once more. 

She was in her own bed, lying on top of the covers and still fully-dressed from the night before. The edge of her pillowcase bore a thick crimson smear, which for one heart-stopping moment appeared to be blood, until Hecate realized that it was the exact shade of lipstick she had chosen to wear the night before. 

She groaned and closed her eyes, curling herself into a tight ball. Her tongue felt like sandpaper, and her throat was still raw with an après-vomit bitterness that made her feel queasy all over again.

Vague, fuzzy-edged images from the night before began to swim to the forefront of her mind, though it was hard to focus on any one of them long enough to process it. 

She remembered going to the party and pouring herself a glass of honey wine. She remembered sitting in the courtyard with Dimity, who was probably the reason she had made it to bed in the first place. Then there was something about an otter, although it was likely she had just dreamed that bit. 

At some point she had talked to Ada. Hecate wracked her fragile, aching brain trying to remember what she had said to her. Something about the wine, something about mistletoe.

She hadn’t revealed anything too embarrassing, had she? It didn’t seem possible that after years of keeping such a tight lid on her feelings she would have opened up just because of a little alcohol. Well, a lot of alcohol. And then again, she did owe Dimity a debt of gratitude, so it seemed that just about anything was in the realm of possibility now. 

Hecate groaned and rubbed at her dry, bloodshot eyes. This matchmaking business had gotten too far out of hand. If this hangover didn’t kill her, she was going to put an end to it once and for all.

*****

Eventually she was able to extricate herself from bed, though it felt like nothing short of a Herculean task. Once she had washed up and consumed a dozen glasses of water she felt significantly more human, though the queasiness lingered throughout the day.

She skipped dinner (which was not unusual for her, meals outside of term time were quite informal and she hated having to make small talk with the rest of the staff) but decided to visit Ada in her office later that evening. She still couldn’t remember if she had said anything untoward to her at the party, but she had decided it was best to apologize anyway, just in case.

“Come in.”

Ada glanced up from her marking and smiled. “Ah, Hecate, I was hoping you would make an appearance tonight. You disappeared rather abruptly from the party, I had wondered where you’d gotten to.”

Hecate blanched. “I er, I wasn’t feeling well,” she said. Technically it wasn’t a lie. “Miss Drill was kind enough to escort me back to my rooms.”

“That explains where she went,” Ada said, nodding. “Miss Pentangle asked after her, which I thought was a rather promising sign. Unfortunately she failed to reappear, and Pippa was intercepted by Davina and Algernon.”

Hecate closed her eyes, pressing her index fingers to her temples. Of course Pippa had actually wanted to see Dimity, but Hecate herself had gone and thrown a wand in the works.

“No matter,” Ada said, continuing on blithely. “I think I’ve come up with a plan that’s completely foolproof.”

The sound that escaped Hecate’s lips seemed to be somewhere between a whine and a groan, with just a dash of “muffled scream emanating not from one’s voicebox but from their very soul itself.” Her eyes flew open and she clapped a hand over her mouth. 

Ada’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s the matter?”

“I…” Hecate took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. “I just think that perhaps this has gone on too long. If it’s not meant to be, then it’s not meant to be. Don’t you think?”

Ada’s face fell. “You haven’t even heard my idea.”

At the sight of Ada’s frown, Hecate’s resolve crumbled. As she schooled her features into something slightly less distressed she realized that, short of doing anything that would put the girls in danger, she would do just about anything to make Ada happy. Ada Cackle was a powerful witch in her own right, but (unbeknownst to her) the power she had over Hecate was unparalleled by any magic known to the witching world.

“What is your idea?” Hecate asked, hoping the answer was somewhere along the lines of _we lock them in a room together and they figure everything out on their own._

“A ball.”

“A what?” Hecate was starting to feel ill again, though this time it had nothing to do with the alcohol.

Ada grinned. “Inter-school balls used to be an annual tradition here, but we haven’t had one in ages. I was thinking we would host the Pentangle’s students for an evening, perhaps even on Valentine’s Day. Nothing terribly formal, but there would have to be music and dancing. You would ask Miss Pentangle to dance, after a few minutes I would tell you that you were needed, then suggest that Miss Drill cut in for you.” She shrugged. “It’s simple enough, and it would certainly decide once and for all just how strong the romantic chemistry between them is.”

“Oh Ada, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“And why not?” Ada raised an eyebrow in challenge.

Hecate desperately tried to think of a compelling excuse. _Didn’t you hear? The Great Wizard just decided that dancing is against the Code._ Or perhaps, _I’ve scheduled Mildred Hubble to have detention on Valentine’s Day and will need Dimity there beside me for moral support._ Or even _Pippa once saw a spectacularly bad production of Swan Lake, to this day she can’t see people dancing without becoming retraumatized._

But no, Ada wouldn’t believe any of that for a second. Hecate had no choice but to tell the truth. 

She looked down at her nails, muttering her answer too softly for Ada to hear. 

“What was that?”

Hecate rolled her eyes and sighed, trying to make up for the flush that had appeared on the apples of her cheeks. “I can’t...I don’t know how to dance,” she said. “And besides, is it really necessary? Don’t you think they might get the idea to dance on their own?” 

“No, because Miss Drill and Miss Pentangle are two of the only people I know who can come close to rivaling you in terms of stubbornness.” 

Hecate’s jaw dropped. She tried to think of a snarky reply, but drew a complete blank.

Ada looked smug. “As for your not knowing how to dance, that’s a simple enough fix,” she said, standing and waving a hand towards the corner. A beautiful cherry wood gramophone appeared, its needle slipping gracefully into the grooves of a record. It was a nice melody, soft and sweet. Hecate didn’t recognize it, but she had never held any particular fondness for modern music (her definition of “modern” being anything that came after Wagner). 

Ada circled around the desk, stopping in front of Hecate and eyeing her levelly. She adjusted her spectacles and cleared her throat. “I’ll teach you.”

_Oh no._

_No. This is not happening. This cannot be happening._

Ada stepped forward, reaching out and placing one hand on Hecate’s shoulder. She took one of Hecate’s hands, and looked up at her expectantly.

“Now place your right hand on my waist.”

Hecate’s cheeks burned. She had spent years carefully compartmentalizing her feelings for Ada, who was her friend and colleague above all else. To hold her, to be a hairsbreadth away from all she had ever wanted, seemed an exquisite torture.

“I...I really don’t think this is nece-”

“Place your right hand on my waist.” Ada’s tone was similar to the one she used when she was cross with one of the girls, but her eyes were filled with a bright, teasing mirth.

Hecate swallowed and reached out, settling her trembling hand on the soft curve of Ada’s waist. She desperately hoped that Ada would attribute her shaking to a general discomfort with physical touch; for decades she had been seen by others as some towering, frigid ice queen, and she now hoped that could be used to her advantage.

Ada lifted her chin, and Hecate tried not to think about how easy it would be to simply lean down and kiss her.

“We’ll start with a waltz. You’ll start by stepping forward with your left foot, and I’ll start by stepping back with my right. That should be easy enough for you to remember, because I am always right.”

Distracted as she was, Hecate still couldn’t help but smirk. “If you say so.”

They took their first shaky step, followed by their second and third. On the fourth, Hecate moved too far and stepped on Ada’s toe.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, blushing again. She went to pull away, but Ada held firm.

“It’s fine, Hecate. I’m not made of glass,” she said softly. 

Hecate blinked and nodded, shifting back into position. They started again, and though she stepped on Ada’s toes at least twice more she did not stop. Ada counted the steps under her breath _— one-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-three —_ and after several minutes, Hecate began to grow more confident. She started to listen more closely to the music, trying to discern the beat and anticipate it without Ada’s count. This song was a little slower, sung by a man with a deep, rich voice. Normally she didn’t care for male singers, but she had to admit that his light baritone was rather pleasing to the ear. 

_Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm_  
_and your cheeks so soft._  
_There is nothing for me, but to love you_  
_and the way you look tonight…_

She swallowed and looked away as the verse ended, trying not to think about how many times she had thought the same thing about the woman she was now holding agonizingly close. 

“You’re a quick study,” Ada said, breaking the relative silence.

Without thinking, Hecate replied, “You’re a good teacher.”

Ada hummed and shifted, moving slightly closer. 

_With each word, your tenderness grows,_  
_tearing my fear apart._  
_And that laugh that wrinkles your nose_  
_touches my foolish heart._

_Foolish heart indeed_ , Hecate thought bitterly. She hated herself for being so weak, for being unable to set aside her feelings for even a short period of time. Ada was just trying to be helpful, she didn’t deserve to be lusted after by someone she considered a friend, especially when that person was hardly worthy of her friendship in the first place. 

She was shaken from her reverie when Ada lifted their joined hands and ducked under, performing a graceful twirl before moving back into position. Hecate followed her lead, stepping forward and replacing her hand on her waist without losing her timing. 

Ada beamed. “You’re a natural. See, dancing isn’t so bad, is it? With the right partner, I daresay it could almost be considered enjoyable.”

Hecate looked away, unable to bear the radiance of Ada’s smile this close up. _With the right partner_. Meaning someone other than Hecate, _anyone_ other than Hecate. “Yes, with the right partner,” she said, gritting her teeth.

Ada blinked and cleared her throat. “Right.” She stepped backwards, extricating herself from Hecate’s grasp. “That’s enough for now, I think.”

Hecate froze, arms still outstretched. She gaped for a moment, confused at Ada’s sudden change in demeanor. In the corner, the record continued spinning in lazy circles.

_Lovely, never never change,  
keep that breathless charm..._

“Ada?”

Ada looked down, wrapping her arms around her middle. Her face was pained, but when she spoke it was in a cool, clipped tone. “I have some paperwork I need to finish. And you should be starting your rounds soon anyway.”

Hecate nodded slowly. She still didn’t understand what had happened, but she knew she was being dismissed. “Yes, Headmistress.”

Ada winced at the formality and turned away, vanishing the victrola with a flick of her wrist.

Hecate hesitated, unsure of whether or not she should say something. But the other woman refused to look back at her, instead moving towards her desk and rifling through a sheaf of papers.

Hecate raised her hand and transferred herself back to her own quarters. 

She mentally reviewed the past few minutes and tried to figure out what had gone wrong. All she’d said was with the right partner, albeit in a somewhat bitter tone. Had it sounded like she meant anyone other than Ada?

If it did, why did it matter? Unless…

Hecate shook her head. No, it couldn’t be that. There must have been something else going on, something else on Ada’s mind which made her want to stop dancing. Yes, that was it. Perhaps some family drama; Hecate knew from experience that Agatha was a constant source of distress for Ada, and that she was never far from her thoughts.

Satisfied with this explanation, Hecate set off on her rounds.

*****

The next morning she awoke to the sound of knocking at her door. Groggy and bleary-eyed, she stumbled out of bed, snatching her dressing gown and wrapping herself in it on the way.

She yanked open the door to reveal Dimity, dressed in her traveling cloak and hood. She smiled brightly, far too brightly for such an early hour. 

“Morning sunshine,” she said.

“What do you want?” Hecate growled, pulling her dressing gown tighter.

“I’m about to head off to my brother’s place, and I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind watching Arthur for me while I’m gone? Ada had said she would do it, but now that she’s going to her mum’s I don’t have anyone to look after him.”

Hecate blinked, unable to process any of what had just been said to her. “Who’s Arthur?”

Dimity pointed down at the floor, and it was only then that Hecate saw she was holding a leash in one hand. Attached to the other end of the leash was the otter she had conjured during the party. (At least, she hoped it was the same one. The thought of more than one otter running around the school was too much for her to bear.) He was sitting at Dimity’s feet, wearing a green harness and looking up at Hecate expectantly.

“He looks like an Arthur to me,” Dimity said, by way of explanation. “Algernon suggested Sebastian, but I thought that seemed a little silly.”

Hecate pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “Yes, because it’s far less silly to-,” she stopped, now wide awake. “Wait, Ada’s going to her mother’s?”

Dimity frowned. “She didn’t tell you? I know it was spur of the moment, she only decided on it last night. But I assumed she’d told you already.”

Hecate’s heart sank. Last night, meaning after the dancing. Her thoughtless comment had hurt Ada after all, and now she was avoiding Hecate.

Lost in thought, she didn’t register herself agreeing to watch Arthur. Dimity thanked her and slipped the other end of his leash around Hecate’s wrist before turning and hurrying away.


	5. say something, I'm giving up on you

Hecate spent the rest of the week wandering the castle, lost in thought. Had anyone else been around they might have thought it was her first day there, what with the way she kept bumping into things and taking long, aimless walks through the deserted halls. 

She tried to be productive, to keep her mind and her hands busy, and managed to accomplish a few long-overdue tasks. She restocked the potions supply cupboard and deep-cleaned her classroom (she was disgusted but not surprised to find that there were still bits of dried veritaserum clinging to the rafters, courtesy of one of Mildred Hubble’s more spectacular failures). She drafted her projected budget needs for the next school year, strengthened the castle’s protective wards, and saw to the ongoing bat problem in the West Turret. But no matter what task she assigned to herself, her thoughts would inevitably circle back around to Ada. Always Ada.

It didn’t help that Ada was normally her companion during the holiday break. Ada’s parents liked to travel during the winter months, and Hecate would have rather set herself on fire than spend the holidays with her sister Hestia, which meant that they usually had the castle to themselves. They would spend their days tucked up in their respective armchairs reading by the fire, or playing chess, or taking long strolls around the snowy grounds. Yule was Hecate’s favorite time of year for this reason, which made her feel all the more lost now that she was alone.

Well, not quite alone. 

Surprisingly, Arthur proved to be pleasant company during this time. He didn’t seem to mind Hecate’s aimlessness and was happy to scamper around on the grounds with her, periodically stopping for a dip in the pond, which he had claimed as his own. (This was something Algernon might take issue with when he and Davina returned from their holiday, but Hecate couldn’t bring herself to care.) He and Morgana even got along, and Hecate had to admit that she quite enjoyed waking up in the morning to the sight of them curled around each other at the foot of the bed. 

As the days wore on, Hecate wished more and more that she could mirror Ada, just to chat. It felt strange to be without her, like missing a limb. She felt lost when she was not at Ada’s side, and there was an unfamiliar hollowness in her chest. Did Ada feel her absence? Did this separation feel wrong for her as well? Or was she glad to be rid of Hecate, glad to be rid of her clingy, thoughtless shadow?

Waiting for her return was an exquisite torture for Hecate, and she craved and dreaded their reunion in equal measures. If Ada was still hurting when she arrived back at the castle, Hecate wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to forgive herself. But if she was back to her usual self, chipper and unaffected by whatever it was that had happened between them -- well, Hecate wasn’t sure if she’d be able to bear that scenario either.

*****

After what felt like an eternity, the two weeks came to an end and the rest of the staff returned to the castle. Davina and Algernon were the first to arrive, sporting impressive sunburns from their trip to Majorca. Maria came in soon after, armed with hundreds of pictures of her newborn nephew and chattering away about some new recipes she had found that she was just _dying_ to try. Dimity showed up just after noon and dropped by Hecate’s quarters to pick up Arthur.

“Did you have fun with your Auntie Hecate?” she cooed, scooping him up and tickling his stomach. 

Hecate frowned at the nickname, crossing her arms over her chest. She’d never admit it to Dimity of course, but she was a little sad to see Arthur go.

Dimity glanced back up at Hecate. “How was it, holding down the fort in your own?”

“Quiet.” Hecate paused. Normally she would have left it at that, or given Dimity a curt dismissal, but after the party fiasco she felt like she owed her a bit of kindness. 

“How was your trip?”

“It was great,” Dimity chirped. She shifted Arthur so he was sitting on her hip, not unlike a small, damp toddler. “Spent a few days with my brother, then went to visit a, er...a mate.”

Hecate nodded, drumming her fingertips against her elbow. “Have you ah, heard from Ada by any chance?” she asked.

Dimity frowned. “I haven’t, but that’s not exactly unusual outside of term time. Why do you ask?”

Hecate shrugged, aiming for an air of nonchalance. “Just...making conversation.”

“Is everything alright between you two?” Dimity asked, clearly not buying it. “I would have thought you’d at least be mirroring each other every night.”

 _I would have thought so too_ , Hecate thought glumly. Instead of saying it, she pretended to bristle. “I hardly think that’s any of your business. And Miss Cackle is more than entitled to a holiday free from school-related correspondences, don’t you agree?”

“Yeah but…” Dimity trailed off. After a moment she shrugged. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

“Something I endeavor to achieve after every conversation I have with you.” 

Lashing out with a dry, cruel remark was a reflex at this point, a knee-jerk response that came from years of covering up potential vulnerabilities. Ordinarily she was delighted when given the chance to make such a cutting remark, but this one left a foul taste in her mouth. Dimity didn’t deserve that, not when she seemed so genuinely concerned for Ada and Hecate. 

For her part, Dimity didn’t seem fazed by the comment. “That’s not very nice Hecate. You’re setting a very poor example for little Arthur here.” She patted his head, earning a soft chirrup from the otter. “And you know how much he looks up to his Auntie Hecate.”

Hecate gritted her teeth. “I am not his _Auntie_.”

“Fair enough.” Dimity smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I mean you did conjure him, so I suppose that _Mama Hecate_ would be more-”

“Leave. Now.”

Dimity snickered. “Oh, this term is going to be fun,” she said, swanning out of Hecate’s quarters with a grin.

Hecate sat on the end of her bed and buried her face in her hands, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyelids. 

Oh, this term was going to be hell.

*****

Hecate felt Ada’s magical signature as soon as the other woman touched down on the campus, but she forced herself to wait a a full hour before transferring up to her office.

The door was shut, and Hecate couldn’t hear any activity on the other side. Her stomach lurched at the memory of the last time she’d been in this exact spot -- nursing a hangover, completely oblivious to the fact that the nature of her relationship with Ada was about to change. _If only I hadn’t come up here that night…_

If only she hadn’t gone up there. If only she hadn’t gotten drunk at the holiday party. If only she hadn’t brought up this blasted matchmaking idea to Ada in the first place. 

Hecate shook her head, as if trying to physically dislodge those thoughts. How many times had she chided her students against crying over spilled potion, against musing on pitiful _if only_ s instead of focusing on the consequences of their actions? She was acting no better than a First Year. No better than Mildred Hubble. 

With that thought in mind, she took a deep breath and reached out, rapping her knuckles against the door three times.

After a moment, she heard Ada’s soft reply. “Come in.”

Out of habit, Hecate opted to transfer inside instead of using the door. She reapparated just on the other side of the threshold though, as a slight show of deference. 

Ada was sat at her desk sorting through her mail. Hecate couldn’t help but smile at the fact she was still wearing her travelling cloak, and her broomstick and luggage were in an unceremonious heap on the floor. Ada had once confessed to Hecate that unpacking was her least favorite activity in the world, and that more often than not she would end up living out of her suitcase for days after her return from a journey. Though Hecate was always prompt in her own packing and unpacking, she found this to be a terribly endearing quality in her friend. 

“Ada,” Hecate said, then paused. Ada looked...different. Hecate couldn’t exactly put her finger on what had changed, but there was an unfamiliar weariness in her frame and the smile she gave didn’t quite meet her eyes. 

“Well met, Hecate.”

Hecate folded her hands behind her back. “How did you enjoy your holiday?”

“It was fine,” Ada said, dropping her gaze. “My mother sends her regards.”

Hecate nodded. “Ah, I’ve been meaning to mirror her. The piece she wrote last month for _Potion and Poultice_ about translating Middle English bone-mending spells was particularly enlightening.”

Ada made a noncommittal humming noise as she began to rifle through the papers on her desk. 

Hecate swallowed hard. She couldn’t help but compare this to reunions in years past, when Ada would return from a trip and happily natter on for hours without pausing for breath. She was usually full of anecdotes -- gossip about teachers from other schools, details about her mother’s latest research, stories about Agatha’s latest escapades which always seemed to be equal parts entertaining and worrisome. Now she was quiet and withdrawn, two words which were rarely associated with the name Ada Cackle. 

“I’ll be making the announcement about the ball during morning remarks on Monday,” Ada said after a moment, breaking the silence. “I’ve checked with Miss Pentangle and she says that Valentine’s Day works well with their schedule.”

Hecate started. “Oh, is that still the plan?”

“Yes, why wouldn’t it be?”

Now Ada met her eye, and Hecate immediately wished she hadn’t. There was pain in Ada’s eyes, a deep ache that Hecate herself had caused. But Ada’s gaze was firm, as if she was challenging Hecate to say something, to acknowledge what had happened between them.  
To acknowledge Hecate’s rejection, however unintentional it may have been. 

For a moment, Hecate considered crossing the room and taking Ada’s hands in her own. She could picture it -- explaining everything, confessing her feelings, asking for Ada’s forgiveness. She’d ask for a second chance, which she knew would be easily granted. Ada was always willing to to give a second chance to anyone who asked, regardless of how much or how little they deserved it. Then Hecate would take Ada in her arms, as she had imagined a thousand times before, and kiss her with a decade’s worth of pent-up passion.

But she didn’t have the right to ask Ada for forgiveness. She couldn’t bring herself to take that second chance. This was not the grand, epic love story that Ada deserved, nor was Hecate any sort of knight in shining armor. Perhaps their misunderstanding had been a blessing in disguise. In the long run, it would surely be better for Ada to think Hecate uninterested rather than to see her for the clumsy coward that she was. Ada would be able to get over it soon enough, and then she would be free to pursue something better, someone worthier. 

She would be happier that way. And as long as Ada was happy, Hecate would be...fine. 

“No reason, Headmistress,” Hecate murmured, dropping her gaze to the floor. “I shall speak with Miss Pentangle regarding the logistics of their visit.” 

“Excellent,” Ada said, in a tone that indicated it was anything but. She said nothing more after that, simply returned to digging through the stacks of paperwork.

“Right.” Unsure of what else to say, Hecate gave a perfunctory nod and transferred away.

 

Ada waited until Hecate’s magical signature had faded from the room before leaning back in her chair and beginning to cry.


	6. have you heard? it’s in the stars - next July we collide with Mars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because who doesn't love a brisk every-three-months updating schedule?  
> (Seriously I am very sorry, and I hope to get this story wrapped up sooner rather than later.)

Hecate had always prided herself on her ability to compartmentalize. 

When her mother died, she allowed herself one week of mourning before she closed off that part of her heart and threw herself back into her studies. When she recognized the fact that her feelings for Pippa were becoming more than just platonic she had ended their friendship, spent the day of the broomstick display in bed, and then gone back to class the next morning as if nothing had happened. This pattern continued all throughout her life, and helped her to stay steady through breakups, rejections, illnesses, and a whole host of other events which might have otherwise devastated her.

She assumed it would be the same this time. She would accept the fact that her love for Ada was to remain unrequited, that Ada would one day find someone else and that it would be a good thing. Hecate would stow her pain away deep inside herself, nestle it beside her other long-buried hurts, and carry on as she had always done. 

That’s the good thing about life -- it goes on. The school year would not come to a screeching halt just because Hecate had a broken heart. There were still lesson plans to write, supplies to order, Hubble-related accidents to clean up. She had no choice but to carry on, for sitting around feeling sorry for herself accomplished nothing. She kept herself busy, going going going all throughout the day and only pausing for a few hours of fitful sleep per night. 

But for the first time in her life, the hurt refused to stay in its compartment. She felt as if she were running and running to try and escape it, but it was keeping pace with her the entire time, taking easy strides next to her frantic sprinting and mocking her the whole way. It was agony, and there was nothing she could do to ease it. 

The world wasn’t ending, it just felt like it was.

That’s the bad thing about life -- it goes on. She had to sit through staff meetings and meals, acting as if nothing had happened. She had to proctor exams, grade papers, assign reading, just as she had done before her world turned upside-down. She still had to sit and confer with Ada about academic and disciplinary matters each night, all the while feeling the weight of unspoken _I’m sorrys_ and _I love yous_ grow heavy on her tongue. 

And the date of the formal loomed ever nearer; a cruel, cursed reminder of the seemingly-harmless flight of fancy which had set all of this into motion.

*****

February 14th arrived both all-too-soon and not soon enough. 

Hecate would freely admit she had been hoping for a late-winter snowstorm, something violent and sudden which would make it impossible for Pippa and her students to fly to Cackles. She would have even settled for a Mildred disaster large enough to trigger an indefinite postponement. But alas - the weather stayed clear and dry, and the only Hubble-related incident involved a mild-mannered pair of singing shoes. 

The Pentangles students arrived at dusk. Hecate helped to usher the chattering mass of young witches and wizards into the dining hall, which was awash in gaudy pink and red decorations (courtesy of one Felicity Foxglove). One half of the room had been fashioned into a sort of dance floor, and Hecate’s heart sank as she saw that Ada’s victrola had been set up in the corner with a stack of albums beside it. As Enid Nightshade selected a record (something loud and bubblegum pop-y) Hecate began to rub the tips of her index fingers against her thumbs, trying desperately not to think of the last time she had seen that victrola. 

“Oi, HB!”

Dimity was standing by the punch bowl with Arthur cradled in the crook of one arm. Hecate crossed to her, grateful for the temporary distraction. It was bad enough to have the memory of That Night on constant repeat in her head, but to have an actual physical reminder of the fact she had once held Ada in her arms and then voluntarily let her go was enough to make Hecate downright queasy.

As she approached, Arthur gave a happy chirrup and began wriggling with excitement. He was wearing a smart red bow tie and looking quite proud about it. 

“Don’t you think he looks handsome?” Dimity asked, stroking his head.

Hecate did think he looked quite handsome, but she wasn’t about to admit that to Dimity. She merely sniffed and turned away to scan the room for trouble.

For the most part, everyone seemed to be behaving themselves. The Pentangles students seemed more at ease, taking to the dance floor and mingling with some of the older Cackles girls. Hecate’s own First and Second years had clustered in small groups along the far wall and were eyeing the boys from Pentangles with a sort of morbid curiosity, not unlike the way they reacted when she introduced a new, unfamiliar potions ingredient. 

Hecate was perfectly fine with this, and hoped that the lack of interest in co-mingling might mean they could end this absurd evening early. 

Beside her, Dimity bent down and released Arthur from her arms.

“Alright, off you pop,” she said, addressing the otter. “I need to speak to your Auntie Hecate, alone. Go find Davina, but don’t let her leave you alone with Algernon. Alright?”

Hecate could have sworn the otter nodded before scampering off towards Miss Bat. She shook her head slightly, dismissing the notion. It must have been a trick of the light. There was no earthly way he had understood those instructions, Dimity was just being ridiculous.

“Why does he need to avoid Algernon?” she asked. It was a conscious choice to ignore Dimity’s strange request to speak to her alone, which couldn’t mean anything good.

Dimity snickered. “Well I never told anyone where he came from, so old Algy is convinced he’s really a wizard trapped in an otter’s body. Keeps poking him and reciting weird incantations, trying to change him back.”

Hecate’s cheeks colored at the reference to the night of Arthur’s conjuring. She was somewhat surprised to hear that Dimity had kept that information to herself; she would have thought it would be fodder for humiliating gossip. Maybe she was saving it to use as blackmail, or as leverage in getting something she really wanted. Or maybe she was just being kind. Hecate wasn’t quite sure which of those possibilities made her more uncomfortable. 

But she didn’t have time to ruminate on Dimity’s motives for secrecy, for Pippa chose that moment to appear at her side. 

“Sorry I’m late darling,” she chirped, smoothing her dress. “I had some business to discuss with my deputy.”

Hecate nodded. “I understa-...darling?” Pippa had never called her darling before. It was a bit intimate for a term of endearment between friends, and Hecate wasn’t quite sure how comfortable she was with it.

Then she realized that the comment hadn’t been directed towards her at all. Pippa wasn’t even looking at her.

She was looking at Dimity.

And Dimity was looking back at her. 

As if in slow motion, Hecate watched as Pippa leaned into Dimity and gave her a soft kiss. It was quick and chaste, but decidedly not a just a friendly greeting between acquaintances.

Hecate’s jaw dropped so fast she heard the joint pop.

“No worries love, you didn’t miss anything,” Dimity said, wrapping an arm around Pippa’s waist. “But I think you might’ve just sent poor HB here into shock.”

Pippa swatted her arm. “You said you were going to tell her!”

“And miss out on this reaction?” Dimity replied, gesturing towards a flabbergasted Hecate.

Hecate’s mind reeled. As far as she knew, the pair had only met once before. Dimity had been MIA when Pippa was over for tea, and she’d spent the night of the Yule party taking care of Hecate and Arthur. By all accounts the matchmaking efforts had been a failure. But here they were, kissing by way of greeting and looking particularly cozy. Hecate wondered briefly if Ada hadn’t slipped the pair a love potion after all. 

She opened and closed her mouth twice, looking for all the world like a pale, black-clad codfish. After what must have been a solid minute of silence she managed to squeak out a tiny “What...?” in a voice that sounded very much unlike her own. She couldn’t even finish the whole sentence.

Pippa smiled and reached out to give Hecate’s forearm an affectionate squeeze. “I’m sorry Hiccup, I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks now but you’ve been so busy.”

“Weeks,” Hecate echoed. Whatever this was had been happening for weeks. 

Dimity took pity on Hecate and gave a fuller explanation, that they had been seeing each other for months now. They’d been in constant contact since the day of the Spelling Bee.

“She mirrored me that night ‘just to ask if the handle wax had worked out okay’,” Pippa said, rolling her eyes. 

“You’re leaving out the part where I was incredibly suave and you were totally smitten,” Dimity replied.

“You knew I was smitten from the moment I laid eyes on you.” Pippa tilted her chin up and planted a kiss on Dimity’s cheek.

Ordinarily Hecate would have found such a public display revolting, but she was too shocked to do anything but stare. They were acting as if it was such an easy thing, as if you could just _tell_ when had someone had feelings for you. That even if you did both have feelings for one another, you could just _act_ on them. She found the very notion to be ludicrous. 

“You mirrored her,” Hecate said slowly, trying to figure out what she was missing. “Just like that. So all of this was just…” she trailed off, waving a hand to indicate the decorations, the music, the food.

Pippa furrowed her brow, “All of this?” she asked. “What do you mean?”

Hecate froze, mouth agape. _Oh no._

_Oh no oh no oh no oh no._

Her usual sarcastic instinct failed to kick in, and she struggled to come up with a convincing cover. “I just mean that you didn’t...well, that Ada and I didn’t…we didn’t have to-”

“Hang on,” Dimity said, eyes growing wide. “Were you and Ada trying to set me and Pippa up together?”

_Just say no. Lie. You can be a very convincing liar when you want to be. Don’t ruin this._

“Yes,” Hecate said, surprising herself with her own honesty. “That was er, that was the general idea.” She closed her eyes and hoped that the floor would open up and swallow her whole. Or that Mildred would blow something up and cause a suitable distraction, Either option would work, she wasn’t picky. 

Instead, she felt a warm hand come down and clap her on the shoulder.

“That was really sweet of you, HB,” Dimity said. Her voice sounded surprisingly sincere.

Hecate opened her eyes to find that both women were smiling at her. They weren’t angry. They weren’t telling her to mind her own business. If anything, they seemed almost _touched_. 

“I had no idea you were such a romantic, Hiccup,” Pippa said.

Hecate swallowed and smiled weakly. “Neither did I,” she managed to croak.

Across the room, the song on the victrola changed to something much slower. Pippa squealed that it was her favorite song and tugged on Dimity’s arm, indicating she wanted to dance.

“Sorry HB, I hope you don’t mind if we excuse ourselves?”

Hecate shook her head, still reeling. “I don’t mind.”

Pippa detached herself from Dimity long enough to give Hecate a quick hug. “You’re a good friend, Hiccup,” she said. She gave Hecate’s shoulder a squeeze, then turned and tugged Dimity towards the dance floor. 

“See you later, Hiccup!” Dimity called over her shoulder. 

Hecate winced, knowing full well that Dimity would never let her live down that nickname. But her face softened as she watched the pair make their way to the center of the dancefloor, pausing only to pull apart a particularly overeager pair of fourth years. Pippa looped her arms around Dimity’s neck, whispering something in her ear before they began to sway to the music. Dimity snickered and settled her hands just above Pippa’s hips.

They made it look so...easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: one line from this chapter was ripped straight out of the Mean Girls musical. I am only moderately ashamed about it. Meanwhile, the title is taken from Cole Porter's "Well Did You Evah?" because I like to be as offputtingly niche as possible.


	7. and for the first time, what’s past is past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge THANK YOU to everyone who’s stuck around to see the end of this! Y’all are gems. And a special shout out to Cassiopeiasara, who’s been so amazingly supportive every step of the way. <3

Hecate looked over at Ada, who was chatting with Davina over by the punch bowl. From the look of it, she was in the middle of telling the story of the time she’d gone to Glastonbury and thwarted Agatha’s attempt to turn David Bowie into a snail. No doubt Davina had heard the story a dozen times before (Hecate certainly had), but her poor memory meant it was new and exciting each time. 

Ada was wearing a simple mauve dress, paired with a silvery shawl that twinkled in the candlelight as she shifted her shoulders. Hecate knew that the shawl was an heirloom, given to her by Alma for one milestone birthday or another. She’d never seen the dress before though. Hecate felt a small, sad pang in the center of her chest at the thought of Ada buying it specifically for this night. Had she held it against herself as she looked in the mirror, imagining what this night would bring? What had she seen, what had she wished would happen?

“Miss Hardbroom?”

Hecate glanced down and saw Mildred nervously fiddling with her sash. 

_Where were you two minutes ago?_ “Yes?”

Mildred shifted from foot to foot. “Would it erm, would it be alright if I went up to my room now? I need to revise for our Chanting exam next week.”

Hecate raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Mildred chewed her lip and scuffed her boot against the floor. “All the other girls are making a big deal out of the fact there’s boys here, but they’re just...boys? I don’t really see what the big deal is.”

Hecate had to tamp down a smirk. _Nor do I_ , she wanted to say. Instead, she nodded. “I suppose that will be acceptable,” she said. Her gaze wandered back to Ada, who was grinning and laughing at something Davina had said. 

“Are you going to ask her to dance?”

Hecate looked back down, realizing that Mildred hadn’t moved. “What?”

“Miss Cackle. Are you going to ask her to dance?”

Hecate’s stomach dropped. On any other night she would have snapped, given the girl a month of detention for her impertinence. But she was so frazzled and emotionally drained from the events of the past few weeks, that when she did manage to speak all that came out was: “Why do you ask?”

Mildred thought about it for a moment then shrugged. “I think she’d like it if you did.”

Hecate frowned, trying to figure out what the girl was playing at. 

Mildred visibly grew more uncomfortable as the seconds dragged on. She shifted from foot to foot, then pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “I should er, I’m gonna go back to my room now,” she said before hurrying away.

Once again, Hecate found herself dumbstruck by the seemingly accidental wisdom and insight of Mildred Hubble. She thought back to the day of the Spelling Bee, how Mildred had seemed to know that Hecate and Pippa both wanted to be friends again, and that they were just one conversation away from resolving their decades-long conflict. 

_She’s really something, isn’t she?_

Hecate shook her head in wonder. As much as she wanted to brush the thought aside, to say that even a broken clock was right twice a day, she knew that would be doing a disservice to Mildred. The girl might have no control over her magical powers, but her powers of perception were a force to be reckoned with.

Hecate’s reverie was broken as she felt something rub against her ankles. She glanced down to see Arthur, who was looking up at her with a wide-eyed, expectant expression.

She raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips in the kind of disapproving frown that usually caused creatures to flee from her presence.

Arthur blinked placidly. 

“Shoo,” Hecate said, waving a hand in his direction.

The otter didn’t move. 

“I said _shoo _.”__

____

Again, nothing.

Hecate crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. Arthur yawned and scratched his ear. He seemed expectant, like he was awaiting further instruction. Hecate sighed and glanced back at the door Mildred had just exited.

She thought of her own school days, staying up in her rooms studying during formals and various school events. Though she had never wanted to attend such frivolous social gatherings, those nights always seemed just a little bit more lonely than the others. 

Hecate checked to make sure no one was looking before kneeling down beside the otter. “Go keep Mildred Hubble company,” she said. “She likes animals, and you’d surely make a better companion tonight than her wretched cat.”

This time there was no mistaking the nod Arthur gave her before bounding away. 

Hecate stood up, wincing as her knees creaked. She looked back at Ada and felt her stomach flip. _I think she’d like it if you did_. 

It wasn’t a particularly profound sentiment, but it created a tectonic shift deep within Hecate’s core. Perhaps things could just be that simple. Hecate knew she was no knight in shining armor, and that there were certainly many other witches in the world who were better at expressing their feelings and being romantic and tender. But she also knew for a fact that no one else on earth could work as hard as she would to make Ada happy, if given the chance. Maybe that was what counted, in the end. Maybe that could be enough.

She found herself striding across the hall towards Ada.

“Ah, Hecate,” Ada said, smiling broadly as she approached. “How are you-“

“May I have this dance?” Hecate blurted, afraid she was going to lose her nerve if she so much as let Ada finish her sentence.

Ada blinked in surprise. “Of course,” she said. 

After a moment’s deliberation Hecate held out a hand, shocked to see that it wasn’t shaking. Ada clasped it in her own and followed her out to a sparsely-populated corner of the dance floor. 

As she settled her hand on Ada’s waist, Hecate realized that the song playing (some simpering pop song the girls all seemed to know by heart) wasn’t the same pace as the waltz. There didn’t seem to be any sort of set steps to this kind of music, which made her very nervous indeed. Ada began to gently sway, and Hecate tried her best to follow along.

_Take me into your loving arms_  
_kiss me under the light of a thousand stars_  
_place your head on my beating heart._

“I see Miss Drill and Miss Pentangle are getting along quite nicely,” Ada said, nodding in the direction of the two lovebirds. “Our plan seems to have worked well.”

“Yes, quite.” Hecate didn’t have the heart to tell her that their efforts hadn’t been necessary after all. 

_I'm thinking out loud-_  
_maybe we found love right where we are._

Ada looked back at Hecate and smiled. “I’m sure you’re glad to be done with all this matchmaking business now.”

Hecate pursed her lips and considered Ada for a moment. Dear, sweet Ada who seemed to get so much joy out of helping others find love, while simultaneously deeming herself unworthy of it. Hecate knew that her own behavior hadn’t helped matters, and she was now determined to make it right. Even if it was too late, even if Ada laughed in her face or told her it had all been a figment of her imagination, Hecate knew she had to screw her courage to the sticking place and give the honesty that Ada deserved. Ada needed to know how worthy she was of the love she longed for, needed to know that there was at least one person in the world who wanted to shower her with rose petals, to (badly) waltz with her until dawn, to wake up with her in their arms every morning for as long as they both should live. 

_I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways,_  
_maybe it's all part of a plan._  
_I'll just keep on making the same mistakes,_  
_hoping that you'll understand_

Hecate took a deep, shaky breath. “The thing is,” she said slowly, “I’m not sure that I am. Done with it, that is.”

Ada furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

Hecate’s pulse was racing now, and she was sure that Ada could feel the staccato patter through her fingertips. “There are two other people I’d like to set up,” she said, “But I’m not quite sure if it would work.” 

Ada eyed her cautiously. “And why is that?” 

Hecate felt a tiny bud of hope begin to bloom in the center of her chest. “Because I know that one of them feels for the other, has felt for her almost as long as she’s known her, if she’s honest.” She hesitated. “But I’m not sure if the other woman cares for her in the same way, or if at this point it would just be too little too late.”

Ada’s feet faltered. For the briefest of moments, Hecate wondered if she had gone too far.  
Perhaps she had gotten it all wrong after all. But then she saw the tears pricking at the corners of Ada’s eyes, and the bud of hope unfurled itself a little bit more. 

Ada gave Hecate’s hand a gentle squeeze. “What if I were to tell you I had it on good authority that the other woman does feel for her? And that it would never be too late, as far as she was concerned?”

Joy. There was no other word for it. Pure, unadulterated joy shot through Hecate’s veins, making her feel giddy and lightheaded. “If that’s the case,” she said, smiling shyly, “then I think you and I should try and set them up.”

Ada beamed and oh, if it wasn’t the most beautiful sight that Hecate had ever seen. “I think we should too.” 

She glanced around, noting the fact they were still surrounded by students and colleagues (some of whom were beginning to stare). “Come with me,” she murmured, releasing Hecate’s shoulder but keeping a tight grip on her right hand as she led her out of the ballroom and into the deserted hallway. 

She tugged Hecate behind a pillar, first checking to see if the coast was clear. For a moment they just stared at each other in utter disbelief, both afraid to so much as blink in case this turned out to be some sort of hyper-realistic daydream.

Much to both of their surprise, Hecate was the first to move. She reached up, cupping Ada’s cheek in the palm of her hand. Ada’s eyelids fluttered shut, and the rest of the world fell away. She pressed her lips to Ada’s, kissing her with all the tenderness she could muster.

Ada let out a soft moan and circled her arms around Hecate’s neck, tugging her ever closer and deepening the kiss in the process.

Equal measures of relief and excitement flooded through Hecate’s veins as she wrapped her arms around Ada’s waist, stroking her spine and feeling her shiver at the touch. She was delighted to note how perfectly Ada fit in her arms, how right it felt to be able to melt against her and just let herself feel. The way Ada dug her fingertips into Hecate’s shoulders, the way she tilted her head as she opened her mouth, the way her own head began to swim as Ada rocked up on her toes and pressed herself ever closer — each brilliant new sensation thrilled Hecate more than the last. 

Their kisses eventually softened, devolving to a series of loose-lipped pecks. Ada let out a soft sigh and rested her head against Hecate’s shoulder. 

Hecate brushed her lips against Ada’s forehead and tightened her embrace. “You know I was talking about us, right?” she asked, feeling an inexplicable need to clarify. “The two people who should be set up.”

She felt more than heard Ada‘s answering chuckle. “Yes, I’d rather figured that out.” 

Hecate smiled. This moment felt so good, so deliciously right, that it was almost hard to believe this was the first time they’d done this. Holding Ada felt so natural, like she’d done it a hundred times before.

_But this didn’t have to be the first time_ , said a small voice in the back of her mind. _You could have been holding her like this for weeks, maybe years, if you weren’t such a ridiculous coward._

Hecate stiffened, knowing it was true. She stroked Ada’s soft hair, thinking of all the unnecessary pain she had caused.

“I’m sorry Ada,” she said softly. 

She thought she would have to explain herself, to give a detailed and elaborate apology, but Ada simply shook her head against her chest and snuggled closer. 

“It’s alright, Hecate,” she said. “We got here in the end, that’s all that matters.”

Hecate worried her bottom lip between her teeth, feeling her anxiety starting to build again. “But you must know I’m not exactly cut out for this. I’m not a romantic by any means, and I’m sure you want-”

“Stop.” 

“But-“

“Stop.” Ada shifted back so she could look Hecate in the eye, though she still kept her arms wrapped firmly around her waist. “I’m a grown witch, Hecate. I appreciate your concern, but I know perfectly well what I want. And right now I want to check on our students, because magic knows how distracted Dimity and Pippa might be at the present moment. I also want to take off these shoes as soon as possible, because they’re giving me the most awful blisters. And tonight, after the Pentangles students have all gone home and our own girls are all safe and snug in their beds, I want to fall asleep in your arms.” She smiled softly and adjusted her spectacles. “It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a very, very long time. The real question is, what is it that _you_ want?”

You, Hecate thought. She was already aching to kiss Ada again, and they had only parted mere moments before. It took her a moment to realize this was the kind of thing she now had permission to say out loud. “You,” she said. “Just...you.”

Ada beamed, and Hecate felt her anxiety begin to ebb. For all of her worrying about over Ada, she had forgotten to truly take the other witch into consideration. She trusted Ada’s judgement in (almost) everything else, why should this be any different? If Ada said she didn’t want a white knight, then she didn’t want a white knight. And if she truly wanted Hecate (as baffling as that seemed), then she truly wanted Hecate. 

It would be alright, Hecate told herself. They would be a team in this, as they were in everything else. 

She took a deep breath and pressed one last kiss to Ada’s lips before stepping out of her embrace. She offered her arm, which Ada gladly took, and led her back towards the hall. As they approached the double doors, the din of the party grew louder, a muddled mix of excited girlish chatter and the throbbing baseline of yet another pop song.

Ada gave Hecate’s arm a soft squeeze. “Ready?”

Hecate nodded. She was ready.

_They_ were ready.


End file.
